Dead End
by ChaosWithCream
Summary: Mikan, now nineteen, has long since escaped the grasp of Alice Academy. She has left that world of deceit behind her for good; Alice Academy, and her life there, never existed. But NO-ONE escapes and it takes only 5 words to drag her back down again.
1. Prologue

**Dead End**

**Mikan, now nineteen, has long since escaped the grasp of Alice Academy. She has left that world of deceit and lies behind her for good; Alice Academy, and her life there, never existed. But even she knows that no-one **_**ever**_** escapes the Academy. **

**----**

Prologue

Mikan sighed, dragging another full-to-bursting cardboard box from the wardrobe. The edges of the box were frayed, and it looked as if it might split open at any moment. She took a moment to glance up at the mess that littered the room; who knew her grandpa had had all this junk?! She shook her head. He'd always kept things, even useless things, insisting that he may someday find a use for them. Honestly, her grandfather had been so optimistic – too optimistic.

"Woah, Mikan, is this you?"

Mikan glanced up from her rummaging for a photo to smack her in the face. She clasped her nose, yelping. Throwing an irritated look at her friend, who was curled up by a similarly abused box, surrounded by an army of papers and brick-a-brack, she peered down at the picture. A little girl with pigtails and sparkling brown eyes grinned up at her, not a care in the world. She couldn't help but smile back at the child. It was her, age nine, lined up with her classmates, the teacher standing at the sidelines. Those were the days…

"I didn't know you were such a cutie!" declared the red-head now peering over her shoulder.

"Could you be suggesting that I'm not a cutie now?!" demanded Mikan, feigning offence. She gave her friend a shove, resisting the smirk that tugged at her lips.

"Pfft, yeah right! Who'd call _you_ cute?!" she threw back, scrambling back to her boxes, her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Yeah, you'd better run, Emi!" she murmured, throwing a teasing glare at her friend.

Mikan returned her attention to the photo. Her nine-year-old self was still beaming up at her, her arm around another girl's shoulders. She felt distant memories stir at the sight of that face, with those deep violet eyes staring emotionlessly at her. That unsmiling girl had been that bubbling nine-year-old's world; her best friend. _Hotaru…_

Shaking her head, she pushed the photo away and continued picking through the rubbish her grandfather had left her. She didn't really want to be doing this; her grandfather's death had been such a great blow that she hadn't wanted to disturb any of his things. Perhaps that was a kind of denial; leaving his home as if he were still here. Whatever, she knew he was dead – it was just hard, even now, but she couldn't afford to keep this house anymore.

She pulled out a rather battered brown envelope, the corners reduced to tattered holes. She couldn't help but purse her lips. What was he holding onto this for? But the envelope was thick with whatever was inside. Barely even curious, she tipped out the contents. Letters streamed out, sprawling across the floor. The gasp escaped before she could stop herself. He'd kept all these letters? Fingering one tentatively, she scrutinised it with her soft brown eyes.

"Oh, Grandpa…"

She could feel herself tearing up. What had that been like for him? Alone, knowing his granddaughter was unhappy and being unable to help. She bit her lip.

But there was still something else in the envelope. She slipped her hand in, producing a crisp certificate when her hand re-emerged. It was the acceptance letter from Alice Academy… By the time her grandfather had got this, she was already gone. He'd never had a chance to say goodbye… Oh, how could she have done that to him?! A tear splashed onto the card.

"You went to _Alice Academy_?!" breathed Emi, startling Mikan.

"Unn, yeah…" Mikan brushed away her tears hurriedly, sniffing.

"But if you went there… You must be a genius?! What are you doing beinga-?!" she asked incredulously, but she was interrupted before she could finish.

"Look, Emiko, I don't want to talk about it."

Something about Mikan's tone made Emiko realise her mistake. Her eyes widened in realisation, before seeming to darken as understanding dawned on her.

"Oh, Mikan…"

She wrapped her arms around her friend as Mikan began to sob, clinging to Emi as if her life depended on it. Emi had known this was going to be hard on Mikan, but she didn't realise quite how hard. Now she understood why Mikan had avoided this for so long. She frowned, glancing at the certificate. What could have happened at Alice Academy all those years ago?

*

"Mm, how about a chocolate shake and…" The brunette glanced over her menu at her friend, her expression quizzical.

"A latte." replied the other girl, handing her menu back to the waitress.

The waitress smiled warmly at the girls, assuring them their drinks would be with them shortly, before hurrying back to the counter. She leaned on the surface while she waited for their drinks, fiddling with her nails. Breathing a sigh, she peered around at the packed café; practically every seat was occupied by students chattering away about whatever their professor had said about their assignment, or whatever that girl had done to that other girl. She couldn't help but shake her head; such trivial concerns, but even so, a smile had softened her eyes; she hoped that it would stay that way.

The clack of cups landing on the counter dragged her out of her reverie. She snatched up the drinks and a straw for the milkshake and hastened back towards the booth in which the two girls were sat.

"Hey, Mikan-chan!" called a voice.

The waitress paused, half-turning to see what was wrong. The boy serving drinks was smirking at her slightly, his eyebrows raised.

"No matter how good-looking I am, you can't be day-dreaming when it's this busy!" He stuck out his tongue cheekily as a blush rose to her cheeks.

"Ha! You? Attractive? I don't-"

"_Mikan!_ Would you _help_ me?! I'm dying!!" shouted a fellow waitress – Emiko – who was balancing three trays precariously on her arms, each overflowing with plates, drinks and cutlery. Just at that moment, a fork clattered to the floor, splattering the poor girl with spaghetti.

Mikan's mouth fell open in a small 'o'. She bit her lip guiltily; she really was too easily distracted, and she was clumsy enough without the added danger of walking around in daze. She braved a sheepish smile at her friend, before throwing herself back into the world of waitress-ing, in which she was constantly under the risk of flying cutlery, falling crockery or raining beverages, and normally, each of these things occurred before her shift ended.

Finally, her break arrived. Traipsing over to the drink counter, she pulled off her apron, exhaustion hugging her every movement, and, with a sigh, heaved herself onto one of the tall bar stools.

"Gimme a shot of your strongest vodka, Akira-kun!" declared Mikan, resting her head on her arms. This had to be their busiest day, _ever_. The customers had had her running around like their dog, back and forth, to and fro, from ketchup to mustard. She felt like she'd been run over by a bulldozer!

"You couldn't handle it, Mi-chan!"

His words were accompanied by a pat on the head. She pouted; even at nine-teen he insisted on treating her like a three-year-old. Peering up him, she tried to give her most menacing glare, but, as per usual, failed.

"You're so _cute_!" he cried, emphasising the word cute in an attempt to humiliate her further. And it worked; crimson flooded through her face like a tsunami. She sat bold upright, opening her mouth to give him a piece of her mind – how _cute!_

"You should've seen her when she was nine!"

Emiko leapt up beside Mikan, beaming, only to be met by a look that probably could kill – perhaps the same look Medusa had worn when she turned people to stone, only Emiko didn't turn to stone – she laughed.

"You got to see her when she was nine?! I'm jealous!" Akira whinged, his blue eyes round and glistening like those of a lost puppy. Mikan rolled her own dark eyes; she was immune to that look now.

"I know you-" Emiko suddenly broke off, her face a mask of absolute horror. Akira froze up, rigidly casting his eyes behind him. A sense of impending doom hung over him as he anticipated the evil monster that lurked behind with an axe. Instead, there was a clock. "IS THAT THE TIME?!" shrieked Emiko, gathering her possessions and scrambling down from the chairs. "I'M GOING TO BE LATE FOR MY LECTURE! AAAAH!" She fled the café, the door chiming as she did so.

Mikan and Akira exchanged glances.

Emiko was a very busy and studious girl. On top of her studies at the nearby university, she worked here at the café regularly as well as tutoring. And, much to everyone else's horror, she had actually signed up for the additional English lectures with the university's most infamous professor. Mikan just couldn't believe it; where did she find the time?

Mikan didn't go to university. She was the only one working at the café that didn't go to the local university, except for the owner, of course. Everyday she would see and hear the happiness that the students were enjoying, the bright future they hoped for. Sometimes, she wondered if she'd made a mistake, but when she was truly honest with herself, she knew no university would want her. She could barely scrape together any decent qualifications, not to mention the fact that she had left school at sixteen. What university wanted that?

However, there was another reason. A deeper reason. If she went to university, her details would be logged. _They_ would be able to find her again. There was no way she'd ever let that happen, so, ever since she'd left the Academy, she'd been jumping jobs, struggling to support herself, living in constant fear.

Yet, here, in this little bustling café, she'd found a place she could call home. She hoped, beyond belief, that it would stay that way.

But things never worked like that. The Academy was never going to let her go.

**----**

How was that for the first chapter? I know it was kind of short, but it ended better there, besides, it _was_ a prologue. Anyhow, this is my first Gakuen Alice fic, and it takes place in the future, but it's not actually AU or anything. :) I prefer writing non-AU stories.

By the way, I don't know how often I'll be updating; school starts again soon, so I'm sorry if updates take a while. I can't promise anything.

Either way, I hope you enjoy this fic; I'll be happy to hear your thoughts. ^^

**~Chaos.**


	2. Five Simple Words

**Dead End**

**Mikan, now nineteen, has long since escaped the grasp of Alice Academy. She has left that world of deceit and lies behind her for good; Alice Academy, and her life there, never existed. But even she knows that no-one **_**ever**_** escapes the Academy. **

**Chaos: **I was planning on withholding this chapter a little longer, but I couldn't resist updating. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are GREATLY appreciated.

**----**

Chapter 1; Five Simple Words

Night: when the world fades away into shadows; when the sun cannot bear to look any longer; when the light recedes into only a few crevices to preserve itself. Under the rule of night, darkness can take control, and under the control of darkness, those who hide shadows inside themselves can come out to play at long last. No one can see them, cloaked in darkness, and under the cover of that darkness, these shadows can take over.

But, unbeknownst to Mikan, something worse than shadows had been unleashed on this winter evening; old enemies were stirring and little by little, her worst fears were coming to life and edging closer to her with every passing moment.

"Is this it?" An emotionless voice rang out, shattering the silence

"Unmistakably." came the reply.

A flickering lamp illuminated two figures. Normally, in such poor light, it would be impossible to distinguish any colours but their clothes seemed to shape a void: complete blackness coated their whole body, like tar. There was a chilling aura surrounding both the men as they stood, stock still, their eyes fixed on the block of apartments. Had anyone been present at this time, they would have most likely been struck dumb with fear; for, without moving, without speaking, they commanded an air that any petty criminal would die for.

Wordlessly, the two men crossed the street. They seemed to merge into their surroundings, but as they reached the porch of the building a new light glared down at them, more powerful than the previous. They stopped, turning their attention to the wall. _Perfect_. Raising a gloved finger, one man, who, it was now clear, wore a mask sculpted in the shape of a feline face, ran his finger down a list of names. His finger halted abruptly.

"We've found you now…" he whispered, his eyes glinting beneath the mask, "_Mikan Sakura!_"

*

"Cooker, dishwasher, heater…"

The chink of metal on metal pierced the silence as Mikan jingled the keys in her fingers. Was there anything she'd forgotten? She pressed her lips together, mentally running through the list again; she knew too well just how forgetful she could be. Once, Kojima-san, her boss, had asked her to look after her dog while she was away. Easy enough, she'd thought; it turned out the dog had to go with her everywhere, which was enough trouble in itself. One day, she'd popped down to the supermarket for her groceries and had driven off leaving the poor animal still tied up outside the shop. It hadn't been until Kojima-san had phoned to check up on the pooch that Mikan had realised!

She shook her head, pulling her head away from idle reveries. She hadn't forgotten anything, she was sure. Nodding to herself, she cast one last glance at the empty café. The chairs were upside-down, perched somewhat dangerously on the edges of the tables; everything was clean and tidied away. It seemed a little lonely, she thought, without the chatter of students brightening the atmosphere.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at her own sentimentality. Honestly. She'd always been like this; overly emotional and soppy. When she'd been little, she had always been the one that had collapsed into fits of giggles – often the only one – and she'd often given into bursts of sobbing and wailing. She wondered where all that had gone. Old Mikan… She somewhat missed that childish, wailing girl… but at least now she had a little more control.

Slipping out of the café, the bell chiming its farewell, she was met by a blast of icy air. She hadn't realised how cold it was. Suppressing a shudder, she fumbled with the keys and, after having locked the door, started her walk home.

She didn't live far from the café, but it was still a while's walk away. Her current abode was a modest one-bedroom apartment and, albeit it needed some work, it had everything she needed. Of course, she wouldn't have minded something a little less worn and run-down but her flat had served her well over the past year or so; she couldn't ask for much more. And nor could she afford much more; it was hard enough finding a place to live on such a low and unpredictable income, let alone a decent place.

At least, she thought, it protected her from this blasted cold. Mikan had never liked winter; it was her least favourite season. Winter stripped the trees bare and left them naked to be ravaged by cold; winter brought gusts of wind which, like knifes, seemed to pierce her very being; winter chased all life into itself, and forced people indoors. Not to mention, since she'd moved north it had only got worse! Not only was it colder, but it was also darker. Mikan had never really got over her fear of the dark; anything could be lurking… _anywhere_.

Shivering, she cast a wary glance about her. She felt so bare; a lone girl wandering the streets in the dark. Albeit the city was still booming with life, her route room was quite the opposite, leading her down old cobbled roads, past dank alleys, and, in truth, her end of town wasn't the safest. It was no wonder that she'd found such a cheap flat.

Her high heels clacked noisily on the concrete, ringing through the air like a gong. She didn't like feeling this conspicuous – like a target. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she quickened her pace, headlines taunting her in the back of her mind. She swallowed. Was it her imagination, or had she just heard footsteps?! Her eyes darted to and fro frantically; she was already trying to resist hyperventilating, and quite clearly struggling.

_MIKAN! SHUT UP!! _she reprimanded herself inwardly, trying to silence the paranoia screaming in her head.

She did that a lot. Her mind seemed to go off on a rampage, but over the years she'd learned to shut it off. She didn't want to hear the things her mind had to tell her; she didn't want to know. The things lurking inside her terrified her far beyond the fear struck into her by the newspaper's tales of murderers and rapists. Inside her own head was the most dangerous place right now, but, unlike out in the streets, she had nowhere to shelter. She was constantly exposed.

It was a relief when she reached her building; she was scaring herself. In a hurry to get inside, safe and warm, she overlooked the curious contraption clinging to the porch wall. It watched her with its beady red light as she stabbed the keypad aggressively, her breath streaming from her lips in ribbons of mist. It watched as she awaited the answering _beep_. It watched as she scrambled to get in through the door, slamming to after her, as if she could lock her fears out. And it continued to watch, even as she disappeared from view up a series of steps inside the building.

When she finally reached the security of her own apartment, she slid her bag from her shoulder, allowing it to land on the floor with a thud. She kicked off her boots, tugged off her coat, and dumped everything in a heap by her door, scraping it to the side with her feet. Typical lazy Mikan. Without need of a prompt from her stomach, Mikan made her way to her fridge, and, much to her delight, found some strawberry yoghurt to chow down on. Satisfied, she grabbed a spoon and threw herself down on the sofa in her pathetic excuse of a living room.

Indeed, there was nothing separating the living room and the kitchen, but really, was it necessary? There was a door to the bathroom, and to her bedroom, so she got all the privacy she needed. Besides, she lived like a slob; every room looked the same when Mikan lived there. Clothes, clothes, clothes – plus several pairs of knickers and occasionally an artistically placed bra… On the sofa, behind the sofa, on the TV, on the table, under the bed, on the toilet (Mikan had a habit of throwing her clothes without aiming whenever she went for a shower or bath – she always kept the toilet lid down for that very reason) and so on so forth. Glasses littered the table, and crumb coated plates lined her bed. Had she even ever vacuumed this place? She doubted it. It was no kind of surprise that Mikan rarely had company.

Shoving a pair of socks off the coffee table, she rested her feet on its surface and reached forward for the remote. Then she froze. That wasn't right, she realised, narrowing her eyes. How had that happened? Could it be…? She couldn't help but glance around anxiously for, sprawled unceremoniously across the floor and under the table, was her post. She hadn't done that… had she? She could have sworn she hadn't. Frowning, she leaned done to pick up the jumble of letters, scrutinising them; nothing seemed out of place, and a few seconds later, as she began picking open the envelopes, she had already passed it off on her own idiocy. Had she taken the time to read her mail earlier that morning she would have noticed, as she leafed through the letters one by one, that one letter was missing, but unfortunately she had woken late, barely able to squeeze time in for breakfast, let alone reading any mail, and, as it was, she noticed nothing.

"Bills… Bills… BILLS!"

She grabbed the pile of letters and chucked it at the wall, watching as it split into a myriad of envelopes of all shapes and sizes. She couldn't keep living like this! She'd nearly sucked her bank account dry; she had nothing left, nothing but the tiny income from the café, and that wasn't going to support her for much longer. She hadn't paid her rent, and the bills just kept coming in. She didn't know what to do! Soon she was going to be living in a _real _dumpster, and there was nothing she could do about it!

When she'd first stepped out into the reality that was minimum wages and late-night shifts, she'd raided her bank account. Every last penny her grandpa had tucked away to ensure her future; she took it all. At the time, it had seemed like so much! She'd felt so optimistic about her fresh start. But then the world dealt her a cruel blow, dragging her forcefully back to reality. She discovered how difficult it really was to find a steady income at sixteen and she realised just how little the money was in the long run. She could only watch as the pennies disappeared one by one, and the notes crumbled away into nothing. And just like that, she found herself fighting for survival.

She'd spent nights on the street before. It was terrifying: the strange noises, the frightening people… It made her feel sick. Beggars had already reserved their porches for the night, but she had not. Forced out in the open, without any shelter, she huddled by the suitcase that housed her belongings. No one paid much heed to the girl sleeping on the pavement, except… Sometimes drunkards would come stumbling by, barely able to see straight. She would hide her place, praying that they wouldn't notice her… But sometimes… they did. The stench of alcohol clung to their breath whenever they leaned forward to get a closer look of this girl. What could she be doing here? They would mutter some vulgar comment to their group; they would shout the most vile things at her. Once… they'd even suggested… It was disgusting! Just disgusting!

Bringing her knees up to her chin, she hugged herself tightly. Why?! Why was it so difficult?!

She mustn't cry! She could make it through this; she'd survived everything else. But even as she thought that, the tears were already searing her eyes. She felt them trickle down her face, and heard them drop onto her jeans, her body trembling. She hated this feeling! She hated crying… She could see herself in the window opposite, the darkness throwing her reflection back at her with twice the clarity. She didn't want to meet the puffy, red eyes of the girl in the glass; she didn't want to see how pathetic she looked, but slowly, she raised her own eyes, and saw the miserable girl staring solemnly back at her

"_You're twice as ugly when you cry."_ a voice told her – a memory…

"Get out of my HEAD!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. The coffee table screeched in protest as it was forced away, but she didn't care. Nor did she care as the yoghurt pot, couple with the spoon, toppled to the floor. She paid no heed as, like spray from a crashing wave, droplets of yoghurt soared through the air. She didn't care about any of it!

Why were those memories still with her?! She had tried and tried to forget, but never did they leave her, like scars, ugly scars. They followed her like shadows, yet they spoke to her in her dreams as if they were alive. Why couldn't she escape?! She'd left all that behind three _years_ ago! Why wouldn't it let go?! She threw herself on her bed, unable to vent her frustration and sorrow; all her feelings, with nowhere to go, were trapped inside her. Why couldn't she just be _free_?!

She stared at the girl in the glass. The girl stared back. Her eyes were haunted with demons of the past. It was like they were mocking her; lulling her into a false sense of security before creeping up on her and shattering the fragile confidence she'd created. They preyed on her mind day and night; how long would it take before they let go?

"I guess I'd better clean that up…" she murmured, drawing her mind away from those morbid thoughts. Her heart felt heavy, like it had been replaced with a paperweight, as she scrubbed the carpet. She rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, friction heating the damp cloth. Even when she'd finished, she could still see the yoghurt stains; discoloured blotches on the floor. She sighed; it wasn't worth it. This place was cheap anyway.

Exhaustion pulling her eyelids, she plodded into her bathroom to brush her teeth. As she splashed her face, the taste of mint lingering on her tongue, she glared at her reflection – she had to pull herself together. Finally, she went into her bedroom and, grabbing her pyjamas, dumped herself down heavily on the mattress.

Then she heard a papery tap as something fell from the bed. Raising her tear-stained face, her eyes, blurry with fatigue, made out a small envelope. She dropped her pyjamas, a chill running down her spine; she _knew_, beyond doubt, she _knew_ she hadn't left anything like that in here. Someone had been here; in her flat, in her room. She couldn't prevent her hand from shaking as she took hold of the little white envelope. It had no name on the front, but it was clear who it was meant for. Her fingers felt numb as she ripped it open and pulled out the contents.

As if she were holding a chunk of metal fresh from the furnace, she recoiled immediately, clutching her hands like she had scalded herself. No! It couldn't be…! She almost choked on her tears when she saw that face beaming up at her; those eyes gazing into hers, trapped behind the shiny material of the photo paper. It was her mother. Her face split into a hideous grimace, sobs convulsing her body. _Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! _She couldn't bear to see that face any longer. Was this supposed to be a cruel joke?! _Please, stop it! Stop looking! _It was tearing at her bit by bit; she could feel that picture boring into her, clawing through her defences. _Stop! Stop! STOP! _She couldn't take this! She couldn't bear this any longer! When she thought she was going to scream, she finally flipped the paper over.

But what she saw was much worse. Five simple words, only five, simple words, but they ripped through her like a hurricane.

_I know what you did._

----

Hmm~ How was that? I'll bet you're wondering what's going on! I was too, for a while. I didn't really think this story through when I started writing it (which was a bit risky), but it's all coming together now. I'm actually quite excited about it! I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! :D

Please, review! I really want to hear what you guys think about this story; and I always find it so encouraging when I get a review, particularly a long one! I'm happy to hear your thoughts, and I'm open to any criticism! Please, fire away!

My next update might be rather more delayed that this one. I hope not, but school starts tomorrow so I'll be a lot busier! I'll try not to disappoint!

~Chaos


	3. Black Cat

**Dead End**

**Mikan, now nineteen, has long since escaped the grasp of Alice Academy. She has left that world of deceit and lies behind her for good; Alice Academy, and her life there, never existed. But even she knows that no-one **_**ever**_** escapes the Academy. **

----

Chapter 2; Black Cat

Deaf. She heard nothing but the reverberating tick of the clock. Blind. She saw nothing but the dust settling around her. Mindless. She thought of nothing but those words. Numb. She felt nothing but the dull throbbing of her heart. Broken. She would never recover. Trapped. She could never escape.

No fragments of dreams or shreds of nightmares were painted on the insides of her lids, for all night long she had recoiled from the dust of sleep as it settled on her limbs. Her body had resorted to fear and adrenaline for fuel, but even now those had faded into nothing more than a distant memory. Logic had left her; consequences had released her; fear merely watched her; and feeling seemed like a fairytale. What had bothered her so about those words? They were only words. Words upon paper – weak, weak paper; weak, weak words. She struggled, as if against a fog, as she tried to remember. What was so wrong? She could sense it; those words… something was wrong… What was it? What -

Thud, thud, thud! Mikan started at the sound, clutching the knife even tighter. She wondered vaguely why she held it in the first place, but as the adrenaline spread through her limbs once again, revitalised by her fresh fear, she allowed instinct to possess her entirely. Thud, thud, thud! Pounding like a battle drum, her heart beat escalated, filling her ears with the sound of pulsing blood. Was that a voice? THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! A whirlwind of thoughts raced through her mind, senseless, irrational, but they struck a cord: her breathing was racing. Could it be _them?_ The splitting ring of the telephone finalised it. The strangled cry that filled the air was unrecognisable as human, even to her, as, dropping the knife, she snatched up the phone and thrust through the air. It crashed into the wall, its wire intestines and electrical innards spilling out.

Silence enveloped the room once again, but it seemed to have morphed into something oppressive. Her eyes leapt around the room frantically. Was she hyperventilating? She could barely breathe.

That was when the door burst open. There was a moment of stillness, like the calm before the storm, as they stumbled into her apartment. She watched as their eyes crawled over the room until they finally fell on her. Then they came at her. Everything suddenly sped up, as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button. A scream sliced through the air – her scream. Arms flailed in the air. Reaching. Hitting. Grabbing. Punching. Suddenly she was on the floor. They were standing over her. She struck out. Legs. Arms. She tasted blood as her teeth met flesh. She couldn't win! She saw the knife. The glinting blade called to her. Decisively, she stretched her arm towards it. Almost, almost! Her fingers brushed the handle; they curled around it – it was in her grip! She turned to her assailants, knife at the ready, a shrill cry hovering on her tongue!

And it all went black.

*

"I can't believe this. But that couldn't be the only reason."

"You're right. Something must have made her crack…"

Mikan grunted. Light reached her eyes from behind her lids, so, squeezing her eyes tighter shut, she rolled away from the source. It was then that the pain hit her. Her whole body felt like it was made of lead, and her joints seeming to creak and crack as if they needed oil. A slight frown crept over her features, but she sighed, too exhausted to dwell on it, and her features softened once again.

"I think she's waking up. Mi-chan?"

Her eyebrows drew together in irritation. _Shhhh…_ she inwardly willed for quiet, but, much to her displeasure, she soon heard footsteps crossing the room. Growling only a bit, she pushed her head into the cushions.

"Mikan?"

"Mikan-chan?"

She groaned. _Go _away_ for goodness sake._

"Not so talkative in the mornings, eh, Mi-chan?" joked a voice.

She batted a hand out blindly, trying to swat away the voices like she would a fly.

"Owww… Don't hit!" he paused, and then added quietly. "You've already given us enough of a beating, Mikan-chan…"

She felt a hand on her head, stroking her hair.

"Mikan…? Please wake up…"

That hand was still on her head, running through her hair. Gingerly, it lifted a lock of hair and twiddled it. So gentle was the gesture that she barely felt the tug upon her roots. Slowly, the fingers moved to her cheeks. They brushed across her face, tender and kind. The touch was warm, and she felt a heat rise to her face at the familiarity of it, yet she was also filled with a deep comfort, and, pressing her face against the palm, her eyes flickered open at last.

And there was Akira.

*

There was something about Starbucks – perhaps it was the smell, that pretentious aura, or maybe the high-prices – for it seemed to attract the intellectuals of society. Writers, readers and learners of all ages swarmed inside the café. Hot beverages, muffins and sandwiches struggled against laptops for space on the little circular tables, while someone tap-tap-tapped away on the keys. Prim businessmen and women conversed in low whispers, gathered secretively in corners and surrounded by steaming cups of black coffee. Tutors nibbled at their muffins, crumbs clinging to their lips, whilst their tutees battled through their assigned task.

Mikan, however, did not consider herself any kind of 'intellectual', in fact, she was probably the opposite, yet she too was drawn to Starbucks. It was her favourite café, and whenever she found she had free time – which was becoming rarer by the day – she would settle herself in here. It was cosy, she thought. That warm scent of chocolate and coffee that laced the air was like a blanket. It wrapped around her, soothing her and embracing her senses, like those baths that fizzed with the magic of bath bombs and salts. But that was not the source of her infatuation with Starbucks.

She took a long slurp of hot chocolate and, aware that she currently wore a white, creamy stash, ran her tongue along her lips. A gentle sigh breathed from her mouth. _That_ was the source of her Starbucks-attraction. Delicious!

Unfortunately, she realised with a frown, the experience was much less enjoyable when people were watching your every move.

"Guys, I _told _you, I'm fine." she scowled at her friends, who sat opposite.

They really were her friends, though, and she felt an overwhelming burst of love as the thought crossed her mind. The fact that they were here now was proof. When she hadn't shown up for her shift that morning, they knew instantly something wasn't right. They'd tried calling her time and time again – something Mikan had no recollection of, most likely as a result of her cell phone being on silent – and their concern grew each time the disconnected voice of the answer-phone chimed. Kojima-san had shared their worry, but she was also her boss, and today had been yet another busy day – she couldn't afford to let her staff off at such a crucial time. Akira and Emiko had rushed over as soon as they could, ringing her mobile repeatedly (of course, to no avail), and when she didn't answer her door, they panicked. And then that terrifying scene ensued. It amazed her that they cared so, in truth, it brought a prickle of tearfulness to her eyes. They'd stayed with her, even after she'd (nearly) gone at them with the kitchen knife. She hadn't had friends like that since –

"Are you listening?! That was _not _fine, Mikan. Do not lie to me." hissed Emi, her glare piercing. "You can't just pretend nothing happened."

"Look-"

"No, you look Mikan. You had a bloody knife! What the hell?" Emiko's pitch was rising.

"I had a bad night!" cried Mikan, before glancing furtively around and lowering her voice again. "I just… had too much to drink." she lied.

Emiko raised an eyebrow, her eyes never leaving Mikan for even a second. Akira said nothing. He hadn't said anything since they'd arrived and, in all honesty, it was scaring her. Normally, he would be laughing, joking, smiling. Now his face was a mask; she didn't know what to make of it. Was he angry? Was he upset? That stoic expression betrayed nothing, and she couldn't resist squirming under the intensity of his stare.

"Liar."

"I'm not lying, Emi! You know I can't take my alcohol."

"You don't drink."

"I was upset, Emi… I… I wanted some comfort."

Her expression didn't change: it was hard, probing, disbelieving. Mikan knew she wasn't convincing anyone, but she wanted to believe everything was normal. Just for now. Just for a moment. _Please…_ But no. She would never, ever escape this.

Suddenly Emiko's face crumpled, tears welling up in her eyes. "Why won't you trust me?"

Mikan was taken aback. She had never, ever seen Emiko cry. And right now, tears were cascading down her freckled cheeks, flowing from blood-shot eyes. She sniffed, and sobbed. Her shoulders shook, as if they held some great burden. Mikan felt guilt rush through her like a tidal-wave, and, shamed, looked away. How could she make her sob like that? She knew it. She brought misery to everyone. Maybe, she thought sadly, it was time to move on again. A new place, new people…

"I… I have to go…" she murmured, her eyes on the floor. She stood abruptly, barely even sparing a pause to glance back at her friends before scurrying from the café. Emiko stared miserably at the lukewarm hot chocolate that sat where Mikan had moments ago, but Akira's eyes never once left Mikan. They followed her as she crossed the room; they followed her as she slipped through the café door; and they followed her as she disappeared from sight. But those were not the only eyes set upon Mikan tonight.

*

It was cold outside, however that was nothing to be surprised about, it was, after all, mid-December. Clouds blanketed what was perhaps a starry sky, rearing like wild horses. Any moment now, the sky would split and the rains would dominate the skies, but fortunately, that had yet to happen. A terrible wind roared in her ears, perhaps trying to talk sense to her – for her thoughts tread a dangerous path – or even trying to warn her, as, tonight, the storm truly would break.

Mikan paid no heed. She was deep in thought, and the more she thought, about the recent events, about her friends, about herself, the more she came to believe that she had to leave. She was nearly bankrupt; she needed a new job, with higher wages, and cheaper accommodation. She didn't want to be homeless, not again. Then there were her friends, and Kojima-san; she couldn't take advantage of their hospitality or rely on them. And she couldn't hurt them, not like this. She felt her heart plummet as she finally approached the subject that worried her most: they'd found her. Or _someone_ had found her; she couldn't afford to find out whom that someone was. She wouldn't get dragged back down. She was free. She'd escaped! But even as she thought it, _his _voice reverberated in her skull: _"No-one, ever, escapes the Alice Academy…"_

Abruptly, she stopped. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't place the source of her anxiety. The wind had dropped, and no noise disrupted the stillness of the air. She could feel her heart beat accelerating as the hairs on her neck lifted to stand on end. Her eyes darted to and fro, but nothing sinister caught her attention. Finally, she sighed, and walked on. It was dark; she was just being silly. It was then, as she drew her jacket tighter around her, that she realised the street was empty. A chill ran down her spine. Picking up the pace, she tried to reason with herself. She was being stupid. This was stupid. What was –

Suddenly, she felt herself being yanked backwards. Her heart almost leapt from her mouth, riding on her scream, but neither made it out. A hand had slammed over her lips, pressing her jaw back aggressively. She made a choke cry as her head was tugged painfully backwards by the hair, stumbling as she struggled against her assailant. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back yet again. She squealed – or tried to – as her feet fell away from under her. She was going to fall! In her head was the image of her lying on the floor, blood pouring from her head; then another flashed by, and another, each more gruesome than the last. It was only a split second, but she was terrified. Her eyes bulged in fear, practically popping from her head. But she didn't hit the pavement; instead, she was pressed against the warmth of a man's chest. She peered sideways, trying to get a glimpse of him. He was masked, bizarrely, with the face of a black cat. She felt a fresh flood of fear race through her, preparing to bite, kick, and scratch herself free, when he spoke:

"Hello, polka dots,"

----

Oh my gosh. How long has it been? I am so sorry! I feel so horribly guilty for keeping my few subscribers waiting. I went through a phase of being totally out of writing, even reading. I just couldn't connect to my characters, and I couldn't find inspiration. Writer's block? I don't really believe in writer's block, I just felt that writing wasn't for me at the time.

But now I'm back into it. Yay? I hope you're as happy as I am. I really love writing and I love sharing what I write, especially with fans of Gakuen Alice (and other anime + manga I love), so I hope you love it too. Did you like this chapter? I've been writing it instead of my coursework – not clever!!! Anyway, I'd love to hear your feedback!

I hope to update soon, but as you know, no promises.

chaos. :)


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